Woke up at 10.30, huge improvement over the last few weeks. I want to do nothing. Even smoking pot has lost some of its alure, running into compulsion, into filling emptiness.
I woke up with the question today: can I be with a man who uses the bread to lick the last bits off the plate? Should I say something? This is paramount to toothpick using, which he has refrained from so far thankfully, but I´ve seen his father do.
What is better? to stick around waiting for some fucking prince, smarter than me, better read, wealthy but not too much so, experienced but not slutty? Or stick around and see...just this summer I was mentally planning my very simple wedding, at Casa Mauá, refined as places go without being sumptuous. And baby, baby looming in the back of my head, already loving it perhaps, thinking that against all odds it will be fine, will have plenty of loving and smarts.
As the months go on, the uncertainty doesn´t wane, just changes in shapeshifting ways. ready to get pregnant one day, sure of my exit strategy the next.
And meanwhile, this sterile inability to write and the feeble distractions: susan sontang, dostoievski. Now I must get some bukawski in english, asap.
Dreamt of being imprisoned the night before last, of deserving it and finding ways to withstand it. Dreamt this morning too, but by now I can´t remember. The construction workers outside woke me up, early for this month, at 10.30 and I am with faithful computer and coffee, seeing if I can land.
I woke up with the question today: can I be with a man who uses the bread to lick the last bits off the plate? Should I say something? This is paramount to toothpick using, which he has refrained from so far thankfully, but I´ve seen his father do.
What is better? to stick around waiting for some fucking prince, smarter than me, better read, wealthy but not too much so, experienced but not slutty? Or stick around and see...just this summer I was mentally planning my very simple wedding, at Casa Mauá, refined as places go without being sumptuous. And baby, baby looming in the back of my head, already loving it perhaps, thinking that against all odds it will be fine, will have plenty of loving and smarts.
As the months go on, the uncertainty doesn´t wane, just changes in shapeshifting ways. ready to get pregnant one day, sure of my exit strategy the next.
And meanwhile, this sterile inability to write and the feeble distractions: susan sontang, dostoievski. Now I must get some bukawski in english, asap.
Dreamt of being imprisoned the night before last, of deserving it and finding ways to withstand it. Dreamt this morning too, but by now I can´t remember. The construction workers outside woke me up, early for this month, at 10.30 and I am with faithful computer and coffee, seeing if I can land.
